


Luncheon with the Lady of the Leyaks

by Lt_Itzalova



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 19:16:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20278435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lt_Itzalova/pseuds/Lt_Itzalova
Summary: A hard-earned PHD and innumerable hours of job hunting has finally landed you a relevant job! Leytek is the self-proclaimed future in chemical engineering and all you need to do is talk with one of their higher-ups over a meal! It can't be that hard...right?





	Luncheon with the Lady of the Leyaks

After checking my watch a third time I finally steeled my nerves: I’d killed it at the interview, I impressed my colleagues-to-be at my first day of training and was told twice by two different people that I “looked like I was meant to wear that” once in my uniform. Though standing in the balmy heat on the front step of this bistro it felt like my greatest challenge was ahead of me: every employee during their first week got treated to a free lunch to sit and mingle with someone else from the company, up until now I’d been looking forward to it but yesterday I was given one detail that’s left me dreading this interaction: I’ll be sitting alone with the woman who’s to be my boss, not just a vague higher-up even, but the person to which I’ll be answering to and seeing quite near daily. 

I pressed forward, hit by the chill of cranked air conditioning that only worsened my nerves as I checked in, explaining I was for the party of two for Leytek Industries. Led on by a disenchanted server I found myself more focused on breathing normally and not tripping on my own feet than my surroundings, leaving me oblivious in my neurotic stupor when it was was broken with a sudden-

“Oi, afternoon, you must be the new meat, then?” I jolted, having nowhere to look but straight ahead to the person addressing me: her wide figure was accentuated by her posture, straight and precise, though as she stood to lean in I had to really take in how this six-foot-something towered over me. She leaned over the table and extended a hand to me with ease, I could only hope her firm grip made it less obvious how much I was shivering. “Anyway, you can just call me ‘Vidi’, not ‘Miss’ or anything, makes me feel young, yanno?” she flashed a smile that might’ve been meant to put me at ease but only served to make me realize how pronounced and sharp her teeth seemed, the way they were precisely interlocked, why, if her heaving chest wasn’t so distracting I’d probably be lost staring at her mouth like a weirdo.

No, her blazer and dress shirt worked hard to contain the bobbing dual spheres, it seemed like a lot of her broad build was to properly support those beasts and with how easily she retracted and stood up perfectly, sitting down without being tugged out of her sharp posture by their jiggling weight. I shook my head and took a seat as well, trying to look anywhere else: her hair, maybe? Straightened carefully, black, probably natural? High sheen. The way her bust juts outwards and sideways makes it hard to see below the chest ar- damn it! Her eyes were a pretty hazel but I could swear I saw the outlines of red, like a highlight on the outer rim of her irises.

I glanced away before it seemed like I was staring; the way she pushed her glasses up seemed like she was put off, or maybe not. Her eyes had this stuck, half-lidded expression to them, but not sultry or even sleepy, the sharp attentiveness just made it seem like she was unbothered, and why wouldn’t she be? Here I was in the lion’s den with a beast while she was sitting comfy in her home. She probably registered the slight tremors in my hands, the stammering my voice made, the low crunching noise…

I blinked: those pronounced teeth seemed to be affixed to a powerful jaw as she opened up to bite clean through the whole loaf of bread that’d been left to us as an appetizer, periodically smearing packets of half-melted butter, often just prying them out and pushing them into the soft bread and taking another bite. I felt the color fade from my face, getting cold at the sight of the large woman opening her mouth in ways no human should be able to. This seemed to finally elicit a reaction as she paused, looking puzzled for a split second and chuckling, snapping her fingers. A waitress was beside us just as quickly “Terribly sorry, another round, one for my friend here too, please. Ah, and whatever red wine you’ve got to start us off.” she flourished a fiver and handed it off to the server who ran off after doing a salute of all things.

“Sorry about that, sometimes they forget to stock these tables for two when I make reservations here. It’s a nice place though and the waitstaff are all dears, honest.” she went on, though she didn’t seem to let it slow her down, interrupting her words with more frightening chomps, her tongue lapping at her palm: one more thing that made me shudder as I had to see the way it reached her hand despite it being six inches away from her. I could only murmur out a weak “T-thanks” as I watched her run it over her fangs, the next set of appetizers arriving as she did so.

Once again her mouth opened wide, lurching forward and making me jump back in my seat. I knew I shouldn’t have come here, I turned my head away as I braced to be punished for my foolish decisions as one of her fangs sank in, getting firmly wedged and tugging itself out with a pop. I opened my eyes again to see Vidi laughing as she held the wine bottle in one hand and gingerly plucked the cork from one of her canines. “Pretty great party trick, right? The frats loved it whenever I did that.” I sighed with relief, rubbing my neck where I expected to get bitten, eliciting another bout of laughing.

“Geez, did you really expect that?” she rolled her eyes, grinning. After a few seconds of silence I nodded slowly, not having a lie that could save me. “Pshhh, those guys in training never filled you in, huh? I’m not about that anymore, not as long as your performance reviews are good, this stuff’s a lot better and easier to enjoy on my own terms over steak dinner.” she pointed to the bottle in her hand, emphasizing as she tipped back and drank straight from it. I of course didn’t have the courage to comment on such a faux pas. I watched the slight but rhythmic and steady undulations of her throat as she quite effortlessly tossed back the entire bottle.

She set it down with a hard thud against the table, shocking me almost as badly as the roiling “HhhrrRRARRRRHP” that roiled up afterwards, pounding her chest with one hand, a low roiling burble sounding off from her gut as things settled into place and she grabbed her second loaf of bread. “Sho’, they didn’t tell you any’fin huh?” she swallowed another mouthful, cackling and once again flashing her fangs. “Well, yeah, ‘m not quite what I appear, I’m harmless though, promise, plenty of people in this subsidiary are, actually. Lotta Leytek is like that, really. ‘s why I founded it as a branch of Quadruple-U corp. Used ‘ta slum around bugging native villages and picking fights with annoying tigers, now I drive a convertible and practice my backswing with the CEO on weekends, gyahahah-HURAARP.” she wiped the back of her hand with her mouth and straightened up.

“Well, no need to act so shook, yeah, I’m head of the branch and one of the most important people around…” she waved her hand in a little circular motion, rolling her eyes and smiling at her self-aggrandizing “But I’m really here to help serve you all, yanno, I’m less your boss and more your mom!” she laughed yet again, something I could only match with a weak grin and hunched shoulders, not even commenting as she took my bread, the last of three loaves so far. Not that I minded, for one it was an appetizer meant for four or five people and secondly watching how effortlessly she gnashed through it, the only sign of it even affecting her being a dull grumbling from her gut made me think better than to comment.

“Brhraaarp-hmmh, anyways, what’re you having? General company policy is order as much as you want as long as it’s not more than I’m getting and it should be under budget.” she laughed but I could only force a smile, what kind of reaction should I have when it was my own boss saying that? What could I even say? Fortunately a waiter appeared to take the heat off of me for a moment, my host and boss flipping through menu pages, listing off her order while her belly interjected with an occasional “HRRGGGH-GGGLK” to make clear that it’d been awoken for a meal and had plenty of empty room in its neighboring chambers to reverberate noise through.

I, meanwhile was using my menu more as cover to duck behind while steadying my breathing and trying to remove any visible signs of distress from my face. “So, like I was saying, what’re you thinking about, kiddo? The veal here is to die for, take it from an old professional.” she tipped her head to the side, letting me glimpse the practically reflectant sheen coming off of her teeth, it seemed like all the red wine she claimed to enjoy couldn’t wear them down in the slightest. “Erh, maybe just a Ceasar salad for now?” she shrugged, turning to address the waiter and hand off another bill as she spoke to me. “Well, alright, ‘slong as you promise it’s not because you’re holding back or something. I only wanna come off scary when negotiating for a buyout, yanno?”

She tossed her head back to laugh, but I could hardly call it that, it was more of a rollicking cackle that filled the room louder than her gastric noises with the broad chest and thick frame she had only serving to enhance its robustness and volume. Try as I might to keep from looking away the sight of her maw wide: teeth on full display save for where her tongue draped over and hung down low enough to threaten grazing her breasts was just too much for my nerves. I ducked behind my menu and whipped my head around, expecting attention but couldn’t detect a side-eye or glare anywhere. As she calmed I heard the pop of another cork: a new bottle in hand that she mercifully took more reserved swigs of instead of downing at once.

“So, where you from, kid?” she dully mused, leaning back and making an unintentional showing of her trap muscles tensing against her collarbone as everything settled into place: a resting stance that was no less spread out nor formally poised than before. “I uh, well, there’s a community colle-” I withdrew, shooting back into my seat as my superior’s empty stomach roared a rumbling “HRRRMGGHHHHhhh…” before it seemed to settle from her twisting her torso with a shift of her hips. “I… I mean uh, well, enough about me, what about yourself?” I hastily spit out, shooting glances to her middle as I waited in fear of being cut off again.

“Aww, how considerate. Well, I dunno, like, you don’t remember being born, it’s like that for me too: I just remember one day I’m slumming in backwater villages: poisoning crops, stealing brats, just typical mischief, it doesn’t get much clearer before that.” she shrugged, eyes shooting open at the clatter of dishware: a garnished plate loaded with a ring of overlaid thin cuts of beef being set before her. “Ah, nice. You sure you don’t want any?” to which I shook my head before she could even finish, too focused on her twirling her utensils between her fingers before jabbing them into the meat before her to much care about my own hunger.

She didn’t hesitate to work up a respectable rhythm in her gorge, something I was thankful to be allowed to watch while shying away at the other end of the table. One hand handled her fork, firm jabs impaling the slices then with another twirl and a shove, repositioned the utensil’s position in her grip to shove into her maw so she could clamp down halfway and pull free while going for another piece from her plate. Interrupted by this were swigs of red wine delivered by her off-hand, though as another waiter arrived with a “refill” and what was less a bowl and more a small ceramic cauldron of soup.

I had no time to see what sort it was, however. I was only able to tell it was of liquid form by how quick she was balancing it in one hand and chugging it between mouthfuls of seasoned beef. Still, with her hands alternating busily between the three items she must have been busy, too busy to focus on anything else and allowing me to hide behind my menu. Of course I didn’t actually plan on staying for dessert.

“Hmmh, sho- HRRARRRHP, d’you actually know what brisket is?” I froze up, of course she could just barely fit in talking with all the other things she was juggling! “Uh, n-no!” I squeaked, defaulting to honesty under shock. “Yeah, well, it’s pretty simple…” I peered up a little, seeing how she was paused, staring off and contemplating as one long nail meticulously picked between her fangs as she yawned: tongue extending and curling upwards a little before being pulled back in. “See, it’s the muscle set that holds up the head for the bovine:” she traced one finger over her chest...maybe it was supposed to be the pecs beneath holding up all that mass? “Has a pretty distinct muscle:fat ratio compared to the body. Well, most primal cuts do, ‘s the point, but that’s another talk for another lunch.”

“I know we’re chemical engineering but I’ve got a lotta experience in anatomy, switching over to pipe filters instead of cattle definitely makes people more open to my interest in taking things apart and seeing if I can put them back together, though.” Another boisterous laugh began on queue like I was being informed of which part of what she said was the punchline, only for it to be cut off by a steady, roiling belch. I shuddered as for a few seconds I was certain I felt wind force pushing against the menu in my hands and felt the acrid sting of alcohol fumes in my eyes from the double magnum-size serving of wine she must have chugged by now.

With a moment of respite provided by her finishing her appetizers I regained my composure and realized those implications: between the soup and the group of drained wine bottles that grew whenever I looked away she must have been holding the equivalent to a case of beer in dense liquid, and that was before considering the meat and bread packed down there. Slowly I lowered my menu to take a closer look.

Immediately obvious was her middle: it took on the obvious consequence of her gluttony and rounded out to push against the table, squeezing inwards as her gut, full as it was must have had plenty of give due to holding barely any solid content. Every so often the milky-pale flesh lurched and wobbled: motion onset from sudden smaller belches or her shift in posture. Her shirt was handling it fairly well: I allowed myself to stare enough to see that the material was so far stretching over her and the buttons didn’t seem to be straining, though I should’ve guessed by now that as impossible as this woman seemed the idea of her having her clothes tailored to be able to handle a distended stomach better than most outfits would be a little predictable.

I swallowed hard: the wide, pooling breasts now swelling out to either side due to the lower swell of her belly still managed to form cleavage that seemed to form a shallow trough for the perspiration starting to form on her. I could’ve sat there and taken her in for far larger if the sight wasn’t suddenly ruined for me by her tongue: the whiplike muscle draped over her left breast, following the curvature and sitting limp save for occasionally flicking as she tugged at her collar. Her whole torso slowly rose and then dropped with the deep breaths and sharp exhales she took.

Her face twisted into a grimace, a bestial look like what I imagined a wolf after a similar gorge looked like, or perhaps more like a dragon what with the way steam seeped up through the space between her fangs. Every exhale caused her stomach to press once again into the table: usually causing a weak impact setting it jiggling with ripples that traveled all the way up to her chest and down again and setting off a low intestinal whine as her guts seemed to work over the liquid contents they were handed and pumped them into her lower intestines to be properly filtered through. Between the overheating and gas pains it looked like she’d really done a number on herself.

I blinked, pulling myself out of my stupor long enough to stop thinking about what all this meant for her and her overstuffed GI and more about what it meant for me. If she was making herself sick it’d be an easy out, and it only made sense, seeing her eat a family’s worth of appetizers with enough wine to drown a person in. I leaned in, feeling a little courage at last, especially when faced with my sweating, wincing employer. “Hey, yanno, if you’d prefer we can just cut this short, did you need a ride home or anything?” she grinned weakly, making me smile before hearing her response.

“It’s sweet that a nice young thing like you would ta-HURRARHP-take interest in an old lady like me and all but I’m not nearly buzzed enough to be getting into some boy’s car for his own interests.” I lurched and felt the sips of water I’d gotten down thus far threatening to come back up while all the blood in my face rushed to be anywhere else. This was our first meeting and did I just make a pass at my own boss?! My mouth went agape and my face froze up just in time for her to begin laughing in it. 

My fears were quelled but her wicked laugh did little to make me feel better past being glad I was so wrong. It got immediately worse as all that rollicking motion turned roiling: the deep laughter going so deep it pulled loose a gas bubble she didn’t hesitate to let free. I recoiled as my eyes watered from being hit by raw alcohol fumes, but more so I was sent hiding behind my menu from the feeling of my hair being brushed back due to the sheer force. Even as I got to cover my mind had burned into it that look deep into her maw: past her immaculate fangs and elongated tongue, her throat spread wide and undulating as she vented everything gaseous trapped in her gut and her eyes lazily staring back at me as it all happened.

I couldn’t tell if it was seconds or minutes until she’d finally stopped but once it did I couldn’t even try to be subtle in looking around, expecting, begging for someone to comment but it was as though I was the only one aware of the inhuman feats my host was putting on. I steeled myself and stole another glance: she was beaming, her fingers interlocked and above her head to stretch, chest and stomach bouncing alike, something I tried to focus in on and find a little joy in, especially as the footfall of waitstaff might as well have been a death knell.

“Real sweet of you to be worried, kiddo, honest…” I called on every ounce of professionalism backed with reminders of how badly I needed this job and how much time I’d already sunk into getting it to help me in making eye contact with this monster cleaning her nails. “But you could do with just keeping me from eating too fast, ‘a little more conversation, a little less action’, I think that’s how it goes? It’s so hard not to focus on a meal when there’s nothing else to do, you know?” She flashed a grin and cocked her head to the side but any attempt to make that endearing were undermined by her stomach’s continued growling, like a third party at the table moaning for attention.

It wouldn’t need to wait long: already the small crew of servers had the space before us cleared out and restocked for the main course. If her poise, stature and demeanor wasn’t enough to make a person humbled in front of her then Miss Vidi’s eating habits surely would: there I sat on one end of the table, a meager plate of greenergy garnished with strips of grilled chicken and croutons while it sat surrounded by her orders. To one side: lobsters fra diavolo, or at least I assumed, the whole thing was just a mixing bowl of red sauce and equally reddened shellfish with just the occasional tail or claw as a tell on the ingredients of the medley.

The mountain of carbonara next to it seemed to stand even taller if only for the sole purpose of establishing itself as the pasta dish of the meal. I tried not to make it too obvious as I turned my head to take in the work that must’ve been required to wind and twist it all into a spiral that climbed a half foot high and still fit on a platter. Joining it in being simple in ingredients but frightening in scale and construction was the tower of calamari right next to it: fried rings carefully picked for their dimensions used to assemble a wide-reaching five-story tower with the smaller, crumbled portions and tentacles filling in the many gaps the rings left. I shuddered to even imagine the amount of squid needed to forge such a monster, let alone how they got it to all stay fresh.  
Lastly, a series of sandwiches that at first screamed “It’s me, your boss! Look, I like simple things just like you, I’m not high and mighty!” but sooner transitioned to “It’s us, the chefs! Please send help, this woman just ate all our bread and cold cuts and we had to start using the mini-loaves meant as appetizers!” once I’d noticed how their composition changed. These four behemoths, each with many a wine bottle set between them, didn’t just surround my own dish, they didn’t just explain why we were seated at two tables pushed together, they served as a metaphor for how utterly dwarfed I was by this woman, pound-for-pound in all ways I could think of.

“Yanno, if y-HURARRHP want some, go ‘head. Like I’d complain about an excuse to order a second round.” She chuckled, one hand already bringing a lobster tail to her lips. I’d have commented if she wasn’t clearly gnashing through the brittle shell and soft flesh alike without a care. I shook my head and smiled nervously, picking up a fork sheepishly while she only continued to inadvertently show off. Her warnings about eating too fast definitely weren’t empty; quickly proven by the efficiency which she coiled pasta around one fork and opened her mouth just wide enough both to accommodate the whole spool and prove utterly unnerving when accompanied by her tongue reaching out with trembling excitement. She didn’t miss a beat with her free hand weaving each finger into a ring of fried squid and with another motion grazing the surface of each into sauce to finally deliver into her waiting maw to be compacted together and sent down in a visible bolus she chased with a few more throat-distending chugs of red wine and an overly loud sigh of satisfaction.

With her focus upon her binge I was free to see the way her belly compacted and spread out against the table when she leaned in or how it lurched and swelled in time with the rhythm of her swallows. More and more it seemed like the sweaty dome was extending horizontally to compensate for her chest putting too much pressure on to extend it's lap-filling mass elsewhere. For how vocal she was in eating her dress shirt seemed to be immaculate, a little stained from her own sweat at worst. I was reminded of such as I stole a glance upwards: her tongue intertwining with another roll of spaghetti before the sauce-drenched coil was jammed into her throat and came up with a clean fork, her face wincing as she brought a bottle to her lips and loudly gulped until everything was forced down towards her stomach. Still through the grotesque show I couldn't spot so much as a fleck of scraps on her clothes.

Though where her efficiency in consumption aided in keeping her shirt clean the natural consequences of eating so much threatened to do much worse to her clothes. I shifted in my seat to get a better look: every so often as she drew back, mostly to take a drink, tongue probing empty bottles for remaining droplets or "politely" aim another caustic vent of alcohol and carbon gases away from me I could see the lurching, wobbling swell of her body in full. Vidi wasn't a small woman by any metric but the beach ball smuggled under her top was threatening to overtake her figure.

The pale skin drooped slightly over her thighs where ample room for a person to lie down on was, the bottom swell rounding in front and molding to the shape of her thighs otherwise. My eyes averted at the fur-like patch of hair running from there up to her navel. Though just as shocking was the fact that I could see it: her dress shirt tugged up over it and sliding higher by the second as it quaked and pulsed outwards as if an indicator for the pressure of mass beneath it.

I glanced up a moment as my boss opened her mouth in ways no living human should have been able, a gape that could swallow a small animal, a small person whole, even, was used so she could cram a hard roll packed with cold cuts past her lips, then tongue, then esophagus as I saw her straining throat tug the distinct shape of the thing pressing through her neck until it disappeared under her chest where each breast pushed upwards even further than when I looked last. A roaring "HUUORAAARRRRHHHHP-" and a blindsiding blast of damp, hot air catching me off guard.

"You eating at all? I mean, I hope, I'm not one for eating salad myself." she stated, seeming the most serious I'd heard her yet, all while using her nails to skewer chunks of fried squid and pop them into her mouth. I'd hardly even recognized how much time I might have spent staring, let alone the fact that I was still at a business lunch. "Oh, o-of course. It's just good custom to let the host start first and I let you get too good of a head start, right?" I stammered out a weak joke as I thoughtlessly stabbed into and took a bite of chicken, good as if was the sweet relief of hearing Vidi chuckle was much better.

I was barely a few bites in before my focus was back on the strange woman, though: I thought she was imposing at first but I was baffled at the fact in of itself with how she seemed to have even greater presence after a half hour of stuffing herself: what of her gut wasn't oozing under the table now had to sit atop it. Her flesh slowly spilling outwards the more she ate, her dress shirt hanging on for dear life with it's let-out buttons straining and the whole thing retreating higher and higher up her abdomen for safety.

Big as she was she was almost as much belly as she was woman now: her gut quivered with everything that laboriously entered or exited it, she leaned to one side or the other to reach around it, it threatened to climb near her chest as it pushed her heavenly oversized mammaries out of the way and perhaps worst of all she seemed utterly unashamed of it all. The casual, perhaps cocky demeanor she'd met me with was here in full, perhaps even more so. Was she in her element like this? Every time our eyes locked I felt a little smaller in her confident presence.

Even the thick, roiling eruptions from the depths of her gut didn't bring the embarrassment they should have. Rather it was like some great beast roaring: she'd let off without warning or hesitation, I could feel the space around us warming as she vented so much wet, warmed air from her stomach so far. If anything she seemed smug, enjoying it, slapping a palm against her bare, exposed stomach at the end of each emission with a stare that invited comments, or perhaps expected compliments. 

It seemed like the only thing slowing her was the absolute mass of her stomach: a pop from below the table and a lurch from her stomach didn't even phase her while I entered a cold sweat realizing my boss's pants button had just given way. Her abdomen finally being exposed: indecently let free as her top was downgraded to a glorified bra while her shiny midsection went free to wobble and bounce in the open didn't seem to even register to her mind. When she leaned forward and hit me with the contents of a gas bubble so powerful the resultant "BBRRRAAARRRHHUUOORRRRP-" blew me back in my chair an inch and scattered any unattended silverware she didn't respond with much else but a sigh that sounded too erotic to be appropriate.

No, the only thing making her slow at all was the way her belly superceded the rest of her. She needed to rotate for each motion now, her stomach sliding against the tablecloth and the motion shaking loose a few smaller burps until more still was dumped onto her mouth. While she seemed calm her sweaty gut seemed plenty distraught with how full it was, and to be fair to it, the pressure has to be immense. It likely contained a bathtub worth of wine and looked it along with her monstrous order. Slowly it stole my sight line to her, letting me sit back and ogle her chest to my heart's content as she continued to eat.

Her rounded gut shielded me a little from the explosive belches she carelessly fired my way but not enough to compensate for the increasing frequency at which she produced them. Even for all the carbonation she consumed it was worrying that anyone living could be so horrifyingly gaseous naturally. Still, the glances at her face I got between these showed her eyes half-lidded and expression dreamy as she entered the closing stretch.

She was forced to slow down and her gut quaked, its' digestive roars barely muffled by the yards of unprocessed food plugging her intestines and carrying all the frightening noise of the restrained internal belches they were. "Hmmmh, ge-uuuooorrrp, geez, you didn't even try to stop me. That smitten? Gyahahahaha!" she didn't wait for a response, mostly because she'd succeeded in shifting and leaning over her belly, her gut as it forced the table beneath it to creak so she could bring a lobster tail to her lips that disappeared in flash with no more than some crackling crunches signaling where it went.

I did a double-take, realizing everything before her, every course, every plate and bottle was spotless, it'd be a challenge to find any morsel left worth eating from the feast she'd ordered herself. I looked up, called by not the sound of a bottle opening but a glass being used. A waiter dispensed to her a sizable glass of white wine, filled to the brim simply because the cup can hold that much, obviously. 

Her figure from where I sat was little more than belly. Sure there was a large, wide figure supporting it but the noisily percolating organ before me, taking up the space once occupied by four dishes demanded the most attention in the here and now. It was almost like a parody: seeing my boss gently twirling a glass in her hand, her tongue dipping in to stir the contents as her belly churned and gurgled.

"So, nice place, ah- hhrraarrhp, isn't it?" She asked gingerly, sipping from her glass to give me time to stammer out "Oh, yeah, it was great, t-thanks SO much for h-" "BUUOOORP- phew… Well, speak up, kiddo." she leaned to one side so she could flash that gleaming smile at me, though at this point I really couldn't tell if she was aware her stomach gases had cut me off. I clenched my teeth, realizing how her swelling stomach was going from dominating the table to threatening my personal space. I pushed my seat back a little, breaking out in a nervous sweat, one waiter taking this as an opportunity to swipe my plate, assuming I was finished and refusing to acknowledge the pale behemoth causing the table's legs to buckle.

I leaned back in my seat, far as I could in fear of the encroaching white dome. The lowermost portion pancaked out slightly, molding to the flat surface, the sides folding slightly from the skin distending to stretch over her absurd bloat, the idea that anyone's body could produce so much gas was crossing over from absurd to terrifying, especially as her pushed-out navel inched closer, looking as pumped up and over engorged as the gut it was attached to. 

Her deep, throaty belches only got deeper and more frequent but it seemed like they barely served to slow her, especially with just a bit more bubbly wine fueling her. I turned my face to the side and winced, bracing as every second another "BHUUOORRRHP" or "HURAARRRRAAAAHP" bellowed into the open air, clenching up and trying not to envision the worst.

A high pitched beeping and a slight grumble. The enormous mass withdrew, albeit slightly: Vidi stood, slowly and laboriously as she checked her watch. The sound of her belly slapping, no, slamming to her thighs as it had nothing to sit upon rang in my ears and made it almost hard to appreciate the way it made her chest bounce. Her tongue flicked as she scowled at her timepiece, her legs swinging around slowly to lumber up beside the table. Each pace shifting where her gut sat upon her legs and making it groan in response.

"Well, I only got an hour before I need to get back to the office so while it's been fun I think time's up." she mused. I got up, not about to throw away this chance at freedom but I had to ask "Didn't we choose this place because it's a three minute drive from the office, though?" which got another riotous bout of laughter which was predictably cut off by a roaring belch. "You're so innocent, I've gotta set a new record for courtesy flushes needed, duh!" she slapped her gut, which seemed to moan from the abuse. "Ah, sorry, right, beautiful ladies don't do that, right?"

She broke out laughing again as she walked me to the exit, myself all to glad to be out of here even if I had to part with that mental image. "Well um, thank you very much for the outing and I look forward to working with you!" I tried to finish strong, even after all I went through, even after her hot belches ruined my hair, even as I had to awkwardly work around her protruding stuffed belly to shake her hand. I got a genuine smile and reciprocation though, leaving me certain that through it all I'd left the right impression.

"Of course, and by the way, kid!" I turned my head, one foot out the door. "Try not to ogle the goods too much at our team picnic event next week, or at least do it evenly so no one gets jealous."

"Gyahahaha-hurraaarrhhp!"


End file.
